Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. ‘Melusine, don’t sit there. “Cut her throat!” Sebastian snapped.
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